


i swear, i'm yours.

by teletubabe



Series: Law Firm AU [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Hayffie, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-27 15:40:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8407309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teletubabe/pseuds/teletubabe
Summary: "I’m addicted to you, Mitch.  The same way I’m addicted to smoking and you can’t stop drinking.  It’s the same fucking thing, neither one of us know how to stop.  You’re going to ruin me.”“Same with you, princess, but I don’t mind.”Hayffie Lawyers AU over the course of ten years.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and Canadian spelling, sorry! Also I'd recommend reading this after pressing the "Entire Work" button, because it really is just a super long one-shot.

Haymitch Abernathy is dwindling a pen between his fingers, sitting comfortably reclined in his chair and talking quietly to another associate when he first sees Effie Trinket.  He’s 25, fresh out of law school, and wants to become the biggest corporate lawyer this city’s ever seen.

 

“Abernathy,” Rothman calls.  At the sound of his employer’s voice, Haymitch fixes his posture and looks up at the man.

 

“Yes Sir?”

 

“I want you to meet Ms. Trinket.  She’s one of our new paralegals, and she’s going to be helping just the associates for now, so you better get to know her.”

 

He turns his head to face the girl standing in front of him and she’s beautiful; her hair is the palest blonde, falling in soft curls around her face, and her eyes are such a bright, piercing blue.  They remind him of sapphires, and she gives him a small yet awkward smile, probably because he’s been staring too long.

 

Almost immediately he looks away, embarrassed that he was gawking at her, and keeps his gaze on the wall behind her.  “Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

 

“Oh!” she exclaims at the nickname.  “Um, my name is Effie.  You can call me Effie.”

 

Chaff turns around to look at the new recruit.  “He calls everyone sweetheart.  Don’t take it personally.”

 

“I don’t, I just prefer Effie,” she nods with a fake smile.

 

“Well Effie, I’m Chaff, nice to meet you,” he responds, and she has a look of satisfaction on her face as Rothman leaves her to socialize with more associates.  Soon she’s greeted them all, and for some reason she arrives back at Haymitch’s desk.

 

“I never did catch your first name, Mr. Abernathy.”

 

When he looks at her he sees someone so pure and so genuinely kind that he doesn’t know how to communicate with her.  His life thus far has been filled with a broken mother, a dead brother, a drunk father who ran away.  He doesn’t know what trust is, or why people would be foolish enough to keep it.  Though he barely knows this woman, he’s senses that she expects him to be kind as well - to be friendly.

 

“It’s Haymitch.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Haymitch,” Effie remarks, beginning to walk away.  “Well, you know why I’m here.  To help you lawyers with work, research, coffee.  I’m just down the hall, so if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

 

She walks away with a spring in her step, and Haymitch can’t keep his eyes away from her.  They’re stuck on her ridiculously long legs and slim waist.  He thinks she could’ve probably been a model or an actress.  He snaps out of it when Chaff starts to snicker and throws a ball of paper at him.

 

“You want her so bad.”

 

“Please,” he snidely responds, getting back to work as quickly as possible.  She’s probably an awful person behind that fake smile and perfect composure.  Besides, she’s just a fucking paralegal.

 

Haymitch ought to be damned if she becomes anything more.

 

* * *

 

 

They talk sometimes.  It’s always office stuff: fact check this, review this document, copy this other one.  On certain days he and Chaff invite some of their colleagues out for drinks.  He likes the act of drinking - likes the way it feels in his body and the way he talks when he’s had a glass of whiskey.  Effie always declines though, says she has work to catch up on or has to get home early.  

 

Haymitch wishes she would come out for once so he could get to know her.  He knows that she’s 22, knows that she takes the subway home and that this is her first legal job.  He knows that she probably thinks very little of him for visiting bars so often.  Yet still, he’s so intrigued by her presence that he continues to drop the offer at her door most nights.

 

One evening in particular, she’s in the firm’s reference library with books surrounding her on the desk.  It’s already seven, most people went home long ago and Haymitch was only here because he had to finish drafting subpoenas.

 

Effie sees him walking in and smiles briefly, returning to her books and writing something down.  Her usual blazer is lying on the back of her chair and her hair is done up in a messy ponytail.  Haymitch tries not to look at her shirt which has ditched a couple buttons and instead, waves back at her.

 

“Hey princess, what are you still doing here?”

 

“Nothing,” she insists, not even looking up to make eye contact with him.

 

“These are a lot of books; do we really have you doing this much research?” he asks jokingly as he picks up one of them.  He realizes that it’s not a normal law book, but a prep book for the Bar Exam.  He’s confused.  “The Bar?”

 

“Not that kind of bar.  It’s a test you have to take, before you can practice law?  I’m sure you’re familiar,” Effie responds sarcastically, causing Haymitch to laugh at her joke.

 

“Yeah, I’m familiar, but why are you studying for the exam?  Right now?”

 

“Believe it or not, Mr. Abernathy, I have bigger dreams that just being a paralegal for the rest of my life.  I want to be a lawyer.  Like you, like Rothman and everyone else here.  I’m taking part-time classes.  I don’t care about going to a prestigious school or anything like that, I just need to pass.”

 

They stand in silence for a while, Effie furiously highlighting and reading while Haymitch just watches her.  He didn’t think that she wanted to be a paralegal forever, it’s just that he didn’t know that this is the reason she never goes out with the other people at the firm.  She’s immensely driven and determined, he realizes, and he respects her for that.

 

“If you’re going to keep staring at me like that you might as well sit down and help me,” she states after a couple of moments.  “I could use it.  If not, you can go get your drinks now, I’m not going to keep you.”

 

So Haymitch sits down.  He forgets about his plans to stop by the liquor store before it closes and takes a seat in front of the paralegal: this girl he’s only known for a couple of weeks.  She explains to him that she needed to start working as soon as possible and couldn’t afford law school, and that if she manages to pass the exam, Rothman’s offered to hire her as an associate.  Of course, she still needs to take another three years of her part-time law classes to even be eligible, but Effie doesn’t care at all.

 

“What are you studying right now?”, Haymitch asks curiously.

 

“Constitutional Law.”

 

“Well it’s your lucky day, that’s my speciality,” he jokes, picking up the book.

 

Her eyes light up and Haymitch wishes he teased her more often.  “Is it really?”

 

He scoffs.  “No.”

 

Effie’s laugh echoes through the quiet room, and he can’t help but chuckle too.  Not because what he said was particularly funny at all, but perhaps out of joy for the company.  She tucks some hair that fell loose back behind her ear, and rests her chin on her elbow, which is propped up on the desk.

 

“Well?” she asks, raising her eyebrows and shoving her thick book across the table.

 

“Well, what?”  


“What are you waiting for?  Test me, Mr. Abernathy.”

 

* * *

 

 

On the days when Effie sticks around to study in the library, Haymitch does too.  It’s just to help her, he says to himself.  He himself passed the same exam with flying colours not too long ago, so he knows exactly what material will be on it and what kind of questions they will ask.  And Effie seems to enjoy his company too, despite the fact that they barely talk during work hours.

 

Chaff still notices though.  He sees the way that they look at each other for just a bit too long, or how Haymitch takes the long way around to the bullpen so that he passes Effie’s office.  When he says anything, Haymitch denies it all and calls him a nutjob.

 

“Trust me, if there was something going on, I’d tell you.”

 

“Whatever you say, man.”

 

The best nights are when they order sushi from the place down the street.  He’d never tried it before and Effie gasped in disbelief, insisting that it’s one of finest things in life.  The restaurant is shitty, nowhere near her expectations, but at eight o’clock they’re both starving and would eat anything.

 

One day while he’s testing her on international trade law, he takes out a flask from his briefcase, and Effie gasps audibly in joking disbelief.

 

“Hello?  How are you supposed to help me study when you’re inebriated?” she demands, throwing her pen at him.

 

“Ow!  Please Princess, I’m not trying to get smashed, normally I’d be home by this time and would’ve already poured myself a glass, is all,” he justifies.  

 

She tilts her head as if in thought and widens her smiling eyes.  “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize I was impeding your slow and steady decline into alcoholism, you drunk,” she laughs, not realizing how close to home her words have hit.

 

Haymitch doesn’t say anything - doesn’t talk about how alcoholism runs in his family or how without a glass of whiskey he often can’t fall asleep at night.  That’s not what she wants to hear, and that’s not the person he wants her to see.  He takes a swig and savours the taste, looking towards Effie who has her eyebrow raised.

 

“Come on, sweetheart.  What are you going to do, tell on me?”

 

* * *

 

 

When Peter Undersee brings his three year old daughter into work, nobody can concentrate on filing evidence or preparing testimonies.  She’s a tiny little thing, so fun yet so shy.

 

“I’m Madge,” she says while holding her daddy’s hand, and Effie can’t get away from her.

 

She practically kidnaps her to the break room, feeding her cookies and braiding her hair.  Haymitch rarely sees Effie smiling this much, and it makes him kind of warm too.  When he goes to refill his coffee, he asks her if she has any work she still has get done.

 

“Well, yes, but work is nowhere as fun as little Madgey over here!  I’ll get it done before I leave, you aren’t my boss, Mitch,” she remarks, and Haymitch has nothing to do but agree and walk away.  He doesn’t know which nickname shocks him the most: the one she’s given to the little girl she’s just met or the one she’s given him.

 

They’re barely friends.  They see each other at work and help each other out, so Haymitch and Effie are acquaintances if anything.  Still, Haymitch wonders if Effie wants kids; he wonders how many she’d want or what she’d want to name them.  She’d definitely be a good mom, she’s caring and understanding and all those things that moms should be.

 

At the end of the work day when Peter leaves with Madge, they stop by every cubicle in the bullpen before heading for the elevators.  

 

“Goodbye, Mr. Abernathy,” she bids, waving her pudgy little hand.

 

“Call me Haymitch, sweetheart,” he smiles, waving back.

 

“Bye Haymitch,” Peter nods, and just like that they’re walking down the hall hand in hand.  They stop by the paralegal office and Effie steps out, offering Madge a big hug and saying a couple words to her.  He watches as the tiny thing clings onto her and begs her dad to let her stay for just a little bit longer.

 

Yeah, Effie would definitely make a great mom.

 

* * *

 

Things don't change until a year has passed.  It's Haymitch’s birthday, but no one says anything.  That's the way it should be, because he hasn't told anyone.  He’s content with spending it in silent contemplation and keeping things normal.  Rumour has it that Rothman’s looking to recruit some of the associates to junior partners, and if it's not Haymitch then he’ll be positively furious.

 

So, he works extra hard and shows that he’s partner material - taking on a pro bono case and winning it for the firm.  When the day ends most people have already left: Effie had an appointment, Chaff apparently has a date and Peter couldn’t find Madge a babysitter so he has to get home.  

 

He walks down the street towards his designated bar; it's his birthday and he more than deserves a drink or four.  The air is chilly and windy outside, and Haymitch can't wait to step into the warm pub.  As he opens the door, he sees a mass of people gathered near the back of the room.

 

“Surprise!” he hears, and it shocks him.

 

They've gathered quite the mob, he sees about twenty other people from the office.  Peter snaps a picture of his reaction, which is surely one of terror and Chaff strolls up to the door to give him a hug.

 

It's a never ending flow of “happy birthday”s and well wishes.  It’s overwhelming, Haymitch hates attention, but it’s good to know that people care about him and want to spend an evening with him.  When he reaches the last person, he spots Effie looking at him warmly from the back corner with a glass of water in her hand.  She puts it down on the table next to her and approaches him.

 

Haymitch is looking at her in astonishment.  He never thought he’d see her here, ever.  

 

“Happy birthday, Haymitch,” she greets, pulling him in for a hug.  They’ve never hugged before, but Haymitch decides that he likes it, a lot.  Her hair smells like vanilla and it’s so soft against his cheek.  Effie’s only a bit shorter than him and she fits in the hollows of his body perfectly.  

 

When they pull away, he speaks.  “So you finally decided to come down for a drink?  This is wild.”

 

“Well I couldn't miss your birthday, Mitch, of course I had to come,” Effie says casually, but she also looks into his eyes and bites her lip just a bit.  They talk a little bit more about work and clients, but the bar is so noisy they're practically shouting over one another.

 

“Do you want to go outside?” Effie suddenly asks.  “I want to grab a smoke, you’re welcome to join me.”

 

Without thinking too much he follows her out of the doors.  There are still a couple people walking back and forth on the sidewalks.  It's only seven, but the winter months make the days so incredibly short.  

 

“I didn't know you smoke,” he mumbles, the music and voices from inside still ringing in his ears.  Her deep blue eyes twinkle, it reminds him of the sun’s reflection against ripples in a lake.

 

“Well, there are a lot of things you don't know about me yet.”

 

From teasing way she looks at him and how her dimples are peeking through from her small smile, Haymitch has to follow her out.  Sometimes Effie says things that sound like a challenge or a promise, and they make his stomach turn upside down and his heart beat faster.  He’s entranced and excited, so he doesn’t think twice as he lets himself fall further for the flirty paralegal.

 

* * *

 

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Haymitch mumbles sarcastically, placing their big order of takeout sushi on the sleek desk where they’re situated in the office library.  Effie laughs giddily and unties the bag, reaching in for her soup and roll.

 

They’re the only two people in the office, as per usual.  Except this time it’s not only because it’s late, it’s because it’s a national holiday and practically the whole office took a day off.  He thought Effie would be going home too, except she surprised him by walking into the office today and confirming their study date for tonight.  Her exam is in a few months, and she’s starting to get really nervous and neurotic about not studying enough.

 

“See, I’m very thankful for all the food options we have in this city.  I much prefer Japanese to a traditional turkey dinner, anyways,” Effie blabbers while chewing.  She doesn’t usually let herself loose at the office, but studying at night seems to turn her into a whole other person.  Haymitch likes it when she’s silly, quick-witted and a bit flirtatious.

 

He huffs in response.  “I love turkey dinner.  I think it’s really good once in awhile.”

 

“No.  Never.  Or maybe it’s just awful at my household.  Mother isn’t really a great cook anyways.”

 

“Is that why you’re here instead?  Because you hate your mother’s food?” he asks doubtfully.

 

“No,” Effie scoffs, wiping her mouth with a napkin.  “I usually do go home.  It’s just that this year I’m protesting my family’s values, the status quo, so to speak.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“My mother is obsessed with getting me married.  She would probably rather have me marry rich than spend a dollar on law school, hence this,” she explains, motioning towards the study books set out in front of them.  “And my father doesn’t do anything to stop it.  My sister is such a fucking kiss-ass, so this year I decided to be stuck in bed with the flu.”  Effie shrugs playfully.  Haymitch tries to laugh along, with her, but she notices the solemn look on his face.

 

Perhaps she feels guilty for everything she just said; how awful is it that she chooses not to see her family for such seemingly shallow reasons, when Haymitch has no one?  He doesn’t blame her though, she doesn’’t know, and this is just the way things are for him.

 

“Mitch?” she starts, looking at him intensely.  “Why aren’t you home for the holidays?”

 

“No home to go back to, I guess,” he whispers, playing with the chopstick wrapper.  He doesn’t want to make eye contact with her, doesn’t want to see her pity him or think of him differently.  Talking about his problems is not something he’s comfortable with, and it’s peculiar how quickly light-hearted banter could turn into real, hard conversation with Mitch and Eff.

 

After a couple of silent moments he feels her small hand rest on top of his, stopping his fidgeting.  “Well Haymitch, I might just have to bring you home for Thanksgiving sometime soon.  And then you’ll never miss turkey dinner again.”

 

He smiles.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Hey Abernathy, where’s Effie today?” Chaff asks absentmindedly, working on some papers.

 

“She took the day off.  Writing the Bar,” he grumbles.  He and Effie had met for coffee this morning before she left to write the exam.  She wouldn’t be at work for another two days - just another form of torture that they make students go through before becoming a lawyer.

 

“Oh shit, already?  Time flies, doesn’t it.”

 

It really does.  It’s been almost three years since Effie began working at Rothman & Associates, and Haymitch can’t believe that they’d been studying for that goddamn exam for so long.

 

“Imagine Trinket sitting here in the bullpen, with us,” Chaff laughs, motioning at the large open space filled with cubicles.

 

If she was in the bullpen with him, he’d never get any work done.  She’d  probably find some way to make him laugh, some kind of inside joke that would cause him to look at her every few minutes.  That’s what it’s like with them, fast paced, quick humour.  He’d also probably be distracted because of how much he likes looking at her.  Effie always catches him staring at a loose strand of hair in front of her face or at the way she chews on her lip when she’s concentrating.  But sometimes when she manages to make him smile, he looks up and sees her gazing back with something more than friendship in her eyes, which leaves them both hopeful.

 

Yeah, it’s safe to say that having Effie in the bullpen would change things quite a bit.

 

* * *

 

A long winter passes, and when the snow finally starts to melt away Haymitch finds himself in a relatively better mood. After another long day at the office, he descends in the elevators and steps out into the lobby.  He’s surprised to find Effie sitting on one of the benches waiting for him, already in her long coat.  She calls his name, waving him over to her.

 

"Hey, Eff, is something wrong?"

 

The blonde chews her lip nervously and holds a large white envelope in her hand.  "Maybe.  Hopefully not.  I just thought that you should be here, to open this because if I passed, it's as much your victory as it is mine, so I waited here for you to be done and-"

 

"Your Bar results came in," he concludes from her rambling.  "Well, what are you waiting for, let's open it."

 

"I just-" she starts, but can't seem to find the words.  "I'm scared of what I'm going to do - if I pass or if I don't pass."

 

"If you don't pass we're going to study more, study harder so that you're ready to try again next year.  If you do pass, I'll take you out for dinner right now and celebrate what an amazing lawyer you're going to be."

 

Effie looks at him with wide, hopeful eyes and a reluctant smile.  After over three years of knowing her, Haymitch still can't get over her deep blue eyes and the way they light up.  He swallows hard, realizing how much he cares about this girl.  Nodding towards the envelope, he urges her to open it.  She rips the seam with her nail and slowly pulls out the papers.  Effie's poker face is impeccable, and Haymitch finds it impossible to read whether she's disappointed or overjoyed.

 

"Effie?  How'd you do?"

 

"I- I did it," she whispers as her hands drop the envelope and come up to cover her mouth.  "We did it.  I passed, Haymitch, I'm a lawyer!"

 

He throws his arms around her and pulls Effie in while she's still frozen in disbelief.  Soon she begins to hug him back, and neither of them care that they’re on a bench in the lobby of their building where everyone is watching them, because Haymitch is so fucking proud of her and the fact that she’s finally a lawyer.

 

It feels so natural.  Her smell, her warmth, her name when it rolls off of his tongue.  So when he leans in to capture her lips, it feels natural too.  She tastes like the sweetest candy and the finest wine.  When Effie starts kissing him back and moving her lips, Haymitch swears that he’s already drunk.

 

It’s such a gentle kiss.  Neither of them are demanding or rough, and although the exchange is brief, too brief, by the end she’s leaning into him and pulling on his tie.

 

“Fuck, Eff, we’re- we’re in public,” he states, chuckling nervously.  He’s trying to act normal but truthfully he’s thinking too much.  Thinking about kissing her again, touching her, making her moan and scream his name: he’s finally seeing that he’ll never want anyone more than he wants Effie Trinket, right now.

 

Effie doesn’t say a word.  She simply nods in agreement and clutches her result papers tightly, as if she’s never going to let them go.  Her cherry red lips are swollen and still slightly parted, and Haymitch swears it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

 

“Well,” he starts while coughing awkwardly.  “I promised you dinner, what’s it going to be, sweetheart?  Your choice.”

 

She thinks for a little bit before her eyes flash bright.  “There’s a new Greek place across the street, I heard their gyros are to die for.  Would that be okay?”

 

“Sounds amazing,” Haymitch says, getting up from his seat and walking towards the door.  Effie quickly follows.  They don’t touch and simply walk side by side; he thinks that perhaps Effie didn’t want to be kissed.

 

But maybe (just maybe,) she also feels the tension thick between them and wants him too.  It seems like a stretch, but can’t a man hope?

 

* * *

 

 

 

For weeks they don’t talk about it.  Their nightly study sessions have ended, and Haymitch and Effie aren’t able to see each other as much anymore.  Especially because Effie is busing moving her stuff from the paralegal office to the bullpen, and Haymitch, arrogantly, already feels like he’s moving out.

 

He knows Rothman’s going to promote him anytime now.  Chaff jokes that the boss secretly thinks about Haymitch as his own son, and he doesn’t disagree.  Haymitch doesn’t mind it; he’ll be Rothman’s favourite if it also means he gets to be a junior partner.  Soon he’s going to have his own office and associates to boss around, and he entertains the idea of him and Effie working on the same case.

 

Speaking of Effie, every time he sees her he panics and freezes up.  When they went to the Greek place later that night, they had simply pretending that nothing was different - that they never kissed.  And Haymitch wishes it wasn’t like this, he wants to kiss her again and again until both their lips are numb.  But if Effie wants to forget about it, he’s not going to embarrass her; he’ll keep his distance if she wants.

 

Until she pulls him into the supplies closet.

 

They were passing each other in the hall after lunch when Effie grabbed his arm and dragged him in, taking him by surprise.  They hadn't talked in so long, her face almost felt foreign and changed.

 

Effie seems nervous or at least fidgety.  Her eyes are wide open as if she’s waiting for him to speak first, but all Haymitch can do is stare back.  He’s pushed against boxes of white paper, and Effie's practically between his legs.  They close the door awkwardly, not wanting anyone to look in and see two associates this close to each other.

 

“Are you attracted to me, Haymitch?”  Effie finally asks, and Haymitch is taken aback.

 

“What do you mean, is this a trick question?”  Of course he’s attracted to her.  This whole time he’s been avoiding Effie _because_ he’s so freaking attracted to her.  He thought that she wanted to forget about the whole thing, and therefore never brought it up.  But now that they're together, confronting one another in such a confined space, Haymitch realizes what an idiot he’s been, what an asshole he must've looked like.

 

“Are you attracted to me,” Effie repeats.  “You know, do you think I’m pretty or smart or funny, or do you want to kiss me again because I feel like I did something wrong for you to ignore me.  I mean, if I was bad, I assure you it was only because you took me by surprise and-”

 

His lips are on hers in no time at all, and Haymitch swears he hears Effie sigh into his mouth in relief.  She kisses him with so much intensity he doesn’t think he can stand any longer, so he leans back against the wall, careful not to let the tower of boxes tumblr to the ground..  Soon, she’s standing between his legs with her hands running through his hair and his own snake around her waist and draw her in so close they're flush.

 

When Haymitch’s hands descend toward the curve of her hips, Effie lets out a low moan and grips tighter to his hair.  She tries to slow him down, remind him that they’re in the office, but her own body keeps responding and moving against his.

 

After a couple more minutes of intense kissing and innocent petting, they draw back from each other, and Haymitch is beaming.

 

“Yeah.  I’d say that I’m pretty attracted to you, Sweetheart.”

 

* * *

 

 

Things move quickly after that.  Everyday they go out to eat lunch with each other and steal glances across the bullpen.  Effie makes him feel giddy, like the way your heart seems lighter at the top of a roller coaster.  They're still trying to keep things at a good pace though, only kissing chastely, and for too short of a time.

  
  
One day Rothman calls him into his huge office in the corner of the building.  From where he's sitting, he can see an entire city skyline through the floor to ceiling windows, and he wonders what it would be like to work in a space like that every single day.  He knows this is it.  After years of taking on extra cases and impressing all the partners, he was finally going to join them: get his own office, attend partner meetings, get to boss around some associates.

  
  
"Abernathy, I assume you know why you're here."

  
  
"I hope so, sir."

  
  
He's ready to shake his boss's hand and thank him for the opportunity, but what Rothman says next is not what he was expecting at all.

  
  
"You and Ms. Trinket.  Is it serious?"

  
  
"Uh- I, um-"

  
  
"Because if it is you better tell Human Resources, fill out a form.  We're fine with office relationships here, we'd just prefer to know who's kissing who, so that no one's distracted, you understand?"

 

“I understand Sir.”  He thinks he understands.  He’s just very confused and shocked that name partners like David Rothman would notice anything about him and Effie, and also that he’s in his employer’s office and _not_ getting the promotion.  He stands up to leave, still hesitant, but stops right before opening the glass door.  “I just thought I’d be made a junior partner sometime soon.”

 

“Oh you are,” Rothman says blankly, sporting an amused smile.  “Congratulations, Haymitch.”

 

Haymitch scrunches his eyebrows in disbelief, not understanding his boss’s state of mind.  Maybe he’s gone crazy, or forgot until that moment.  “What do you-”

 

The old man shrugs.  “I just like to see you squirm.”

 

* * *

 

He’s working peacefully in his private office when she knocks on his door, letting herself in.

 

“Wow, Mr. Abernathy, nice digs,” she jibes.

 

“Thanks, Ms. Trinket, the views pretty good isn’t it?”

 

“Which view are you referring to?”  There’s that twinkle in her eyes again, and Haymitch gets up to approach her, sitting on the front side of his desk.  Her plum coloured cami dips down just low enough to tease him, and the junior partner can’t help but lick his lips.

 

Effie either doesn’t notice or ignores it, because she walks towards his full length windows and looks down on the city and admires the view.

 

“I’m going to be a partner here soon.  When I get it, I want an office bigger than yours.”

 

He raises a brow, and looks at her from behind.  She’s still 26, far younger than the partners here at the firm.  But for some reason, he feels like if anyone could become the youngest senior partner this firm’s ever seen, it would be Effie.  He believes she’ll do it if she says so, and he decides to play along with her game.

 

“I want to become name partner one day, have my name plastered on all the signs.”

 

She spins around, looking him up and down as if she’s sizing him up.  Haymitch loves that with Effie, it’s never about the past or any problems they might’ve dealt with before.  With them, it’s about the future - big dreams, expectations and goals - and that makes Haymitch feel excited and like there’s something to look forward to.

 

“Abernathy & Associates,” Effie says to herself, processing the idea.  After a couple of seconds she shrugs and nods jokingly.  “Yeah, I can see it.”

 

* * *

 

 

One night they're leaving the office, hand in hand as they descend into the subway.  They commute separate directions, and usually say goodbye about now, but this time when they're about to part ways Effie gives his hand a tug, pulling him her way.

  
  
"Are you doing anything right now?  Because you could come over if you want - if you have time."

  
  
Haymitch raises his eyebrows at her and nods, following her down the tunnel to her subway platform.  Neither of them have work tomorrow and he was just going to go home, drink a glass or two of scotch and call it a day, but going to see Effie's place definitely sounds like a more eventful evening.  Of all the time they've known each other, they've never met outside of a three block radius of the office, never seen each other out of their suits and blouses.

  
  
The train quickly pulls up and they step inside.  There are panels in the subway car right next to the doors, and since most of the seats are taken they each lean on one of them, facing across from each other.  Haymitch takes a look at Effie and she's beaming, looking at their fingers intertwined and the way her knuckles graze against his.  For a moment they just listen to the rumble of the subway tracks and the quiet mumbles of the other passengers.  But Effie's apartment is still a couple stations away, and the two of them can only stay quiet for so long.

  
  
"So what are we doing at your place?" Haymitch asks, half suggestively and half with genuine curiosity.  

  
  
"Oh you know.  Monopoly, hide-and-seek, snack.  The whole shebang," she jokes as she looks up to meet his gaze.  He laughs, leaning his head against the panel behind him and chuckling.  "What's for snack?"

  
  
"I'm thinking pasta."

  
  
"That's really fancy for a snack," Haymitch comments, playing along.  "Are you cooking?"

  
  
She snorts.  "Of course not.  There's an amazing Italian place near my house.  You have you try it, their pesto is to die for."  She bites her lip.  "And I may have already made reservations for us two days ago."

 

Haymitch shakes his head in mocking disapproval and clutches onto her hand a little bit tighter.  “Neither of us can cook, we’ve never eaten anything not made by someone else.  I think I’m going to have to leave you. Princess.”

 

Effie pulls on his arm when the subway also jerks to a stop, which causes Haymitch to stumble forward awkwardly into her body.  She puts her arms around him and keeps him against her, so that her mouth is against the nape of his neck, laughing.  Her hot breath against his skin and teasing smile are driving him mad.  A kiss is planted on his delicate skin, and Effie gazes up at him with those fucking blue eyes, jibbing him.

 

“You would never.”

 

And just like that, Haymitch is hungry for something else.

 

They skip the restaurant and head right to her place, practically running up the stairs and Haymitch buries his head in her hair and holds her hips from behind her as Effie fumbles with the keys.  Soon she’s pressed against her wall and Haymitch is kissing her hard, running his hands up and down her clothed body.  He throws off her coat and begins to unbutton her blouse and trail his kisses down her neck, and soon Effie is mewling into his ear and moaning his name.

 

She’s the sexiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on, and when he sees her peach coloured lacy bra against her creamy white skin he starts salivating.  Haymitch dips his head down and leaves a love bite on the top of one of her breasts.  Effie is pulling at his tie and messing with his dress shirt to get it off, and when he’s shirtless and bare-chested she runs her hands over his muscular build.

 

“I want you so fucking much, Haymitch,” she whispers almost as a confession, heavy lidded and filled with lust.

 

“I swear, I’m yours.”

 

So they claim each other in the most intimate way.  It’s rough and aggressive and their constantly fighting for dominance.  Slowly but surely they make their way across Effie’s apartment and into her bed, falling right over onto the plush mattress.  When he fucks her slowly and eagerly, he loves seeing her face and hearing her noises with every thrust.  She’s so perfect and tight, and he wishes they could be joined like that forever but it only takes a couple more minutes for him to be shouting her name and spilling into the condom that they’d managed to get on.

 

It’s the best sex he’s ever had, and by the way Effie’s smiling to herself and still trying to catch her breath he knows that she feels the same way.

 

After a couple minutes of comfortable silence he feels her shift on the bed.  She’s reaching onto her nightstand for her box of cigarettes and a lighter.  She needs it even if Haymitch doesn’t like it, but even he has to admit, there’s something so entrancing about Effie Trinket lighting up a smoke in bed; she’s still naked and her breasts are illuminated by the moonlight from the window, and the way she makes a few “o’s” out of smoke that float through the room leaves Haymitch hypnotized.

 

It’s like they’re floating on a cloud, or existing in a bubble that no one can reach or dare pop.  It makes his heart race and his head dizzy, but he’s never felt more alive in years.  Not since before his brother’s car accident, or before his life turned to shit.

 

He has a feeling it scares her too, but they never did do boring.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you so much for making it to the end of Part 1. This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it kept growing and growing and I needed to break it up! Soon I'll post the second part, which is much darker and a tad bit more angsty; this first half is definitely all fluff.
> 
> This is story also exists in the same universe as my Gadge story, "Attorneys at Law," but you aren't required to read it at all. Unless you like Gadge, which in that case, please check it out. (There's snippets of Hayffie too!)
> 
> Did you love it? Hate it? Tell me what you think, I'd love to hear your opinion!


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long one.

“I’m fucking scared, Princess.”

 

“Oh, don’t be.  My parents won’t be too awful to your face.  It’s behind your back you have to worry about.”

 

Haymitch laughs nervously, looking over at Effie, who’s in the driver’s seat.  They’ve been on the road for almost an hour and the idea of meeting her family is making him feel sick.  When her parents urged her to come home for the holidays, he for some reason thought it would be a good idea to finally meet them.  So they rented a car and now, they’re driving upstate to spend two nights at the Trinkets’.

 

“What if they hate me?”  Usually Haymitch doesn’t care much what other people think about him, but he doesn’t want to fuck this up with Effie.  They’ve been together for a year, and already he can’t imagine being with anyone else.

 

“They won’t hate you.  And besides, it’s going to a be a big Christmas party with lots of people.  Worst case scenario, we hide.  We leave the party and all it’s annoying people and just go somewhere no one will find us”

 

And that’s exactly what they end up doing.

 

Her mother kept making off-handed comments about his unkempt look or his assumed social background.  She had shown Haymitch to the guest room - all the way across the big house from Effie’s - and warned him to better stay there the whole night.  During the party, everyone kept approaching Effie and asking her about her new man, and neither of them could take it any longer.  They retreated to the library: a large room filled from floor to ceiling with old looking books and mahogany furniture.

 

From the library they can still hear the music coming from the party, and the room is dimly lit by a creaky chandelier and a few candles.  Effie is staring mindlessly at the shelves, reading the spines of each of the familiar books.  Tonight she looks exquisite; her flowy gold dress hits the floor and leaves her décolletage deliciously exposed.

 

“I thought that I’d finish every book in this room before I left this house,” she says to no one in particular.  Haymitch walks over and hugs her waist from behind, bringing her into his grasp.  He rests his chin on her shoulder and closes his eyes while gently swaying to the string quartet playing outside.   

 

“Mhm,” he replies, mumbling into her hair.  “And?”

 

“And I realized that I hate reading for leisure.”  They both laugh and Effie places her hands on top of his, snuggling into his body and leaning backwards.  “Sorry about my parents,” she starts.  “They weren't always like this.  I think at one point they were really in love, really great with each other.  But now everything is so passive aggressive, I don't think they ever tell each other what they want anymore.”

 

“That’s why I don’t believe in marriage.  It just fucks things up, makes the relationship not about you but about the games you play to make your relationship look good.”

 

“I would want to get married,” Effie mentions, leaning into his chest.  When he nuzzles her head and smells her shampoo, Haymitch pulls her in tighter.  She continues, “I want a big wedding with tons of people, I feel like it would be fun.”

 

“There are cheaper ways to have fun,” he whispers into her ear.  He snakes his hands downwards and Effie brings them back up, looking at him knowingly.

 

“I know.  But still, it might be good.”  Effie sounds like she’s reasoning with herself, like she’s still unsure.

 

“Is that what you want?” he asks softly, and she turns around to face him so that her back is pressed against the bookshelf.  She’s studying his features closely, her sky blue eyes wander from his eyes to his lips and back up again.  

 

“I want whatever keeps me close to you.”

 

Haymitch swallows hard and stares back.  Her eyes are vulnerable, and her words are the closest thing to a declaration of love he’s ever heard.  So he leans in and pushes her against the books, kissing her chastely and closing his eyes.  Effie cradles his face in her small hands and kisses back. 

 

Whether they get married or not, he's never going to forget the way they saw each other and felt each other right then and there.

 

* * *

 

 

After Christmas they quickly fall back into their normal routine.  At the firm, they try not to get too distracted or make people point fingers at them, but sometimes Effie will sneak into Haymitch’s office and steal a kiss or two.  When the day ends they go out for dinner, and sometimes (most of the time) they’ll go over to Effie’s and he’ll sleepover.  

 

Her apartment is bigger, less cluttered, and her bed is so much softer.  Regardless of their innocent intentions, they always end up falling into it, lips latched onto the other's bodies and just feeling the way they fit together.  Sometimes it’s fast and needy, but the best times are when they fuck slowly and loudly, when no expanse of skin is left untouched and they light each other's nerves on fire.

 

When it’s dark and they're tired, they’ll sit at her kitchen table and talk.  Haymitch will pour himself a glass of scotch and Effie lights a cigarette.  They indulge in their vices and indulge in conversation about everything, from philosophy to personal stories and fashion.  Effie is everything Mitch wants.  She’s beautiful, funny, smart and so much like him yet still different.  At the core of their personalities, they care about the same things, and it makes him want their nights to never end.

 

“What’s your read on Rothman?” he asks in the middle of one of their lighter conversations.

 

She tilts her head inquisitively and thinks hard.  “I think he really wants the approval of his staff, despite the fact that he’s the boss, you know?  Notice how when you compliment him on anything or make a suggestion he takes it very, very seriously?  And he always leans into the nod like-”  She does her best David Rothman imitation, rubbing her chin and leaning closer to him with her whole body, and Haymitch cracks up.

 

“He probably keeps a diary.”

 

“Oh, no doubt,” Effie agrees, nodding vigorously.  “And he likes you.  A lot.  I think he almost likes you more than I do.”

 

“Is that possible, princess?”

 

She shrugs, closing her eyes and smiling to herself.  “I said  _ almost. _ ”

 

* * *

 

 

Like turns to love when it’s 2 in the morning one night.  

 

“I love you,” she whispers into his chest, and maybe he isn’t supposed to overhear, they’d both been silent for quite a while in bed, but he shuffles and gulps so that she knows he’s awake.

 

He hasn’t heard the words in years.  He didn’t think he’d ever hear them again.  So when Effie speaks them so freely with so much conviction, it’s hard to believe this is real life.

 

“How do you know?” Haymitch questions, demanding an explanation for her emotions.

 

“I just do.  The same way I know that the sun rises every morning, or that one plus one equals two.  It just makes sense.”

 

Effie snuggles harder into her chest and closes her eyes, content to go back to sleep.  She doesn’t demand that he say anything back or expect him to respond in any sort of way.  He loves that about her, loves that she’s patient and compassionate and everything he’ll ever need.  So he says it back anyways.

 

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

 

* * *

 

 

Everything continues to go well.  For Effie, things start to go especially well.  She’s promoted to junior partner, the youngest ever at the firm.  He’s so happy for her and wants to celebrate, but Effie jumps right into her new work duties and engrosses herself in cases and clients.

 

She’s driven - nothing new there.  But Haymitch notices a lot of small things about Effie that are different too.  One major thing, she’s stopped smoking, claims she’s trying to get her life back together, but he knows she loves it too much to just quit cold turkey.  She always tired or her head aches from the withdrawals, and one day she’s so nauseous at work he almost begs her to just have one cigarette, but she glares him down.

 

“Why would you even fucking say that, Mitch.  Think for a second, will you?”

 

And plus she’s letting him sleep over less.  Or in her words, he’s more than welcome to sleep over, but if he’s looking for sex, she just isn’t feeling it that night.  So Haymitch leaves early, frustrated and wishing Effie would open up to him a little bit more.

 

And then she tells him they need to talk one day when they’re out for lunch, and Haymitch already knows what’s coming.

 

They’re sat down at a sandwich shop, and Effie’s drinking the smallest cup of soup he’s ever seen.  She swears she’s not hungry, but Effie is always hungry.  Haymitch raises a brow.  He wishes she would just break up with him already; he doesn’t see a point in going out for lunch and making a whole event out of it.

 

“Thank you for making time for this, Mitch.  We both know I’ve been really distant and secretive lately and it’s just that-”

 

“Look sweetheart, I get it,” he interjects, and Effie looks taken aback.  “You want to break up with me as a part of your self-improvement, rehabilitation plan.  You want to focus on your job, quit smoking, I guess it was only a matter of time before you quit me too and-”

 

“I’m pregnant, Haymitch.”

 

“W--What?” 

 

Pregnant.  Effie is pregnant, they’re pregnant and she’s been hiding it for weeks.  It should scare him more but it doesn’t, instead his heart starts to race with something good, something positive.  The idea of the woman that he loves so much, pregnant with his child makes him excited and for some reason it feels okay.

 

“I’m pregnant.  I know we were really careful but it just happened, Mitch.  I don’t know if I should keep it or not because of our lives and how busy we are and-”

 

“We’re keeping it,” he suddenly insists, and he knows anyone eavesdropping in the restaurant right now must be seriously doubting his ability to make rational decisions.  “We have to keep it Effie.”

 

She looks frazzled by his response, confused, but also excitedly surprised.  “You want it too?”, she whispers, almost mouthing the words to him across the table.  He grabs both her hands in his, looking right into her eyes. 

 

“Hell yeah, Effs.  Think about it, we can do this.  We’re both in a good place with work, in a good place with each other.  I know you’d make a great mom, I can work on the dad thing.  Handling a kid won’t be any different than the other stuff we handle.”

 

“But it’s a full-time, long term commitment, Mitch.  We need to-”

 

“I love you, Effie.  I can’t imagine having a kid or spending my life with anyone else, and I know you’ll say the same thing.  So why not?  Why not start our life now, you know?”

 

It’s the biggest promise he’s ever made, but he stands by it more than anything he’s ever said.  Effie squeezes her hands in his and looks at him hopefully, smiling so brightly and nodding to herself.

 

“Okay,” she says, confirming the idea in her head.  “Okay, let’s do it.  Let’s have a kid.”

 

* * *

 

 

So now Haymitch and Effie are having a baby, and things could not be better.

 

They decide not to tell anyone for now, neither of them want to file anything with Human Resources or explain to anyone how the situation came about.  Anyone who knows either of them knows that they are not ready to have a child.  But they’re both excited, and Haymitch finds parenting books on the kitchen table instead of fashion magazines.

 

One day they’re walking through the aisles of a second hand store and they find the most beautiful antique crib.  It’s a dark, reddish wood and it rocks from side to side.  Haymitch loves it right away, but Effie is adamant.

 

“Maybe second-hand isn’t such a good idea, I know Pottery Barn has some cute cribs?”

 

“I don’t want to spend 500 dollars at Pottery Barn, sweetheart.  This is perfect, you know it is.”

 

They buy it and bring it home on the sidewalks, walking.  It takes over an hour but their laughing the whole way through, high on the idea of a new life and a future together.  Halfway through there's a craft store selling tiny hand-knitted shoes, so Effie picks out a pair of those too.

 

“What colour?”, he asks as she peruses the row of baby footwear, eagerly trying to find the perfect ones.  

 

“These ones,” she exclaims, holding up the chosen pair.  “Green.  It's gender neutral, and it reminds me of your eyes sometimes when you're in the sun.”

 

“So you don't have a gender in mind?”

 

“I never said that,” Effie denies, paying the lady at the cashier and heading out to where the crib is parked on the sidewalk.  “It's going to be a boy, I just know it.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I hope he has your eyes,” Effie whispers one night when they're cuddled up on the couch.

 

“I hope he doesn't have my anything, sweetheart,” he responds bitterly, taking a sip of scotch.  “Best case scenario he’s 99% you, 1% me.”

 

“What's the one percent?”

 

“My patience,” Haymitch jokes.  “Because you have approximately none.”

 

“That’s not true!” she insists, but they’re both laughing loudly and he kisses her softly on the forehead.  It’s 12:30 already, and they should probably get to sleep soon, seeing as it’s a Wednesday night.  But any night they can spend together just talking and enjoying each other’s company is worth it to Haymitch.

 

“You have a lot of traits I’d want our child to have,” she starts again after some moments of silence.  Her voice is raised and she gets up off her back to face him.  “I want him to be resilient, and witty and honest with himself.”

 

“Are you sure you’re still talking about me?” 

 

Effie straddles him playfully and pulls him in closer to her, and Haymitch rests his hands on her tummy, amazed that their child is growing in their right now.  “Of course I’m still talking about you.  You’re the strongest man I know, Mr. Abernathy.”

 

* * *

 

 

Haymitch is shit a secrets.  He cracks a week later, and blurts it out to Undersee when they’re in his office doing paperwork.

 

“Effie’s pregnant,” he says out of nowhere, and Peter doesn’t say anything for a while, he just stares.

 

“Are you serious?” his fellow partner asks, putting down his pen and looking his friend in the eye.  He’s smiling ear to ear, and Haymitch can’t help but follow, nodding fervently.  

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m serious.  She’s six weeks in.”

 

“Mitch!  That’s amazing!” Peter exclaims, rising from the table to give his friend a hug.  When he embraces him, Haymitch gladly hugs him back and feels like Effie has somehow brought more family and friends into his life than he could ever imagine.  “I’m so happy for Effie and for you, having a kid is the brightest blessing in my life, I know your’s will be the same.  Tell her I say congratulations.”

 

“Well, don’t give it up to her that I told you,” Haymitch responds, covering his own mouth in disbelief.  “We’re not telling anyone, you know, we want to wait a bit longer.”

 

“When you  _ are  _ telling people, let me know so I can spread the word,” Undersee insists, and Haymitch has to shrug and nod in compliance.  The partner returns to his chair and gets back to work quickly, still with a wide smile on his face.  “Everything will go perfect, just you wait.”

 

And Haymitch knows that he’s right, he has to be.

 

* * *

 

 

But it happens just weeks later, in the middle of the night.

  
  
Haymitch wakes up to the sound of Effie's painful cries and immediately jumps up to her aid.  She tells him that there's blood between her legs - lots of it - and her face is so pale, skin almost translucent, so he rushes them out into a cab and they head straight for the hospital.

  
  
As soon as they arrive at the emergency room, Effie's rushed into the hospital rooms on a stretcher while Haymitch helplessly sits in the waiting area.  There's nothing he can do.  Nothing he can do except sit in this too cold, too sterile, too white room with a lot of other sad and ill strangers.  He worries about Effie, hopes that she's okay as the doctors run their tests and scans on her.

  
  
He wishes he could call Chaff so that he could tell him to calm down or to suck it up, but it's 2 A.M. and a part of him knows that things would never be okay again.

  
  
When the doctors finally call him in, he finds Effie bundled up on her side.  She looks as if she's seen a ghost, and when he takes her small hand in his own it's ice cold. 

  
  
"Eff, are you okay?  What did they do to you?"

  
  
The doctor rudely interrupts before she can respond.  "She's fine.  Ms. Trinket's lost a lot of blood, but overall her own body seems to be in good condition."

  
  
Haymitch requests that they have some time alone, and the doctor dutifully obliges.   When he's finally gone, Haymitch peels a piece of her hair off of her face and tucks it  behind her ear.  

  
  
"What happened to you?" he whispers softly, rubbing his thumbs across the backs of her hands.

  
  
"Not me Haymitch, not me," Effie states almost hysterically.  She's trembling and obviously trying to keep it together, but her eyes are so wide and scared that Haymitch doesn't want to hear what comes next.  He knows what it is, but he doesn't want to hear the words.

  
  
"I lost him, 'Mitch.  I lost him, he's gone and I-"

  
  
He hushes her quickly, not wanting to see her cry.  Climbing into the hospital bed next to her, Effie buries her head in his chest and clings onto him tightly.  He rests his head on the backboard and strokes her matted hair, looking up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.

  
  
It's gone.  Effie always called it a boy but they really never did know.  This child that they decided to keep and raise so spontaneously, the one that made them imagine years together of being a family and growing old together and having this child who looked just like them, was gone.  All their premature plans and dreams died with the baby they never got to have, and there's nowhere to go from here.

  
  
Haymitch realizes then that all night he never even thought about the baby.  He was only thinking about Effie, making sure she was okay, and worrying about her health.  He's selfish and evil, and these truths make him sick to the stomach.  

  
  
He was too blinded by his love for Effie to realize that he wasn't prepared to be a father.  Neither of them were prepared for this, and now he sees it.

  
  
"It's okay Effie.  We just weren't ready," he mutters, trying to comfort her, but instead she snaps her head up to look him in the eyes.

  
  
"What do you mean?  We had it all figured out, things were supposed to be perfect and now it's all fucked up."  Tears are welling up in her eyes, and she brushes them away with her sleeve.

  
  
"But we just weren't ready for this.  For fuck's sake, Eff, you're 27.  We're both working full time and we'd been dating only a year when you got pregnant.  Can you honestly say it was the right time?"

  
  
"Why do you not care about him?  Even now, all you’re thinking about is how you’re off the hook.  Well congratulations, Haymitch, you got you wish."

  
  
"That's not what I mean, please, Princess.  And I would've made an awful father anyways.  Things happen because they’re how things should be.”

 

Effie’s looking at him in disbelief.  He can’t even believe these words are coming out of his mouth, but as he says them he realizes how true they are.  They were talking about things like marriage, buying a house, things that were never on his agenda until Effie told him she was bearing his child.  They jumped into things too fast and now she thinks he’s a heartless, loveless asshole.

 

“They said it’s because of me,” she whispers.  “They said it’s because my uterus is fucked up, there’s a wall in it or something, it can never hold a baby to full term.   _ Never. _ ”

 

And  _ that _ just sucks the breath out of his lungs and makes him shed a tear.  Because there was nothing Effie wanted more than that kid, and she wanted him to be theirs.  He stares intensely at the too-white wall, not knowing what to say for what feels like hours.  

 

“Fuck, I don’t know how to deal with this either, okay Eff?  The doctor said you lost a lot of blood - let’s just try to get some sleep and things will be better in the morning.  I’ll call in sick for the two of us”

 

He can’t even begin to fathom the emotional pain Effie is going through right now, but in most ways he shares it; his heart feels like it’s made of stone and sinking down into his stomach.  She nods and clutches onto him tighter, body so frail and cold, shutting her eyes completely and inhaling his smell.  Haymitch hopes that they can get past this, and try to remember what they were like before they were thrown into all of this.

 

* * *

 

 

They can't, though.  Haymitch tries to remind her and tries to make her smile, but Effie isn’t even half of the beaming, playful girl she was before their miscarriage.  She lies in a pile of blankets on her couch while he tries to keep her company, but she wants nothing of it.

 

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta get up.  Come on, I’ll make us some soup and then we can go outside for a walk,” he suggests.

 

“You can’t cook,” Effie flatly responds, wrapping herself tighter in the blankets.

 

“Then we’ll order something, go out, I don’t know.  Please, Eff.  We have to move on, there’s nothing else to do.”

 

“I know that, I do,” she insists, sitting upright.  “But I just do not understand why you don’t seem to care at all about him.  All you want is to move on, and all that shit you said at the hospital..”

 

“I didn’t mean any of it.”

 

“But clearly you did!” she shouts over him, immediately retracting her anger and putting a hand over her mouth in shock at her abrasiveness.  Effie lowers her voice to almost a whisper.  “We bought a fucking crib and tiny fucking shoes, Mitch.  You can’t tell me after you commit yourself to this ‘dream life’ with me and our child that you were never ready to love him anyways!  Because what does that say about those times you said you loved me?  I am just super confused about how much of what you did and said were to appease what you thought I wanted.”

 

“You think I don’t love you?”

 

“I think that you were right.  We jumped it to this whole thing way too fast to even notice that we aren’t meant for each other.  You never would say that you loved me unless I did first, and it’s never too late to realize you made a mistake.”

 

She doesn’t get it.  She doesn’t understand that just because he can’t say the words as freely as she does, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t  _ feel them _ every single day.  “I’m in your fucking apartment right now trying to help you and comfort you and you tell me that my affection isn’t enough?”

 

Effie stands up and begins to pace.  “That’s not affection, Mitch, it’s obligation!  Look, you don’t have to be here anymore, you don’t have to pretend for anyone’s sake that this is what you want!”

 

“You’re twisting my words, and you don’t want me to leave.”

 

“I do!  I do, I want you to leave me alone, Haymitch.  Please, just go.” she shouts, gesturing towards the door.  Her eyes are swollen and red and Haymitch stares at them in disbelief.  She’s shaking her head hysterically, and Haymitch decides he’s had enough.  If she wants space and alone time so be it, but he isn’t going to stick around just to be her punching bag.

 

He puts on his coat and walks right past Effie, leaving her in a volatile trance staring at the clock.  The door slams behind him as he rushes out, and suddenly the world feels so much colder.

 

* * *

 

 

A couple days later Effie approaches him at work, telling him to come by soon and pick up his stuff.  He can’t believe this is actually happening, that they’re really choosing to break up instead of sort thing out.  She must of collected box after box of his things, considering the fact that his own closet was practically empty when he opened it yesterday.

 

That’s the only time she chooses to speak to him from that point forth.  Instead, it’s only curt nods of agreement in meetings and Effie recommending that it would be best if they didn’t work together on cases.  It really fucking sucks, but Haymitch will give her all the space she needs.

 

But it lasts for months.  

 

They don’t talk for months, and Haymitch’s life somehow become even more dim when Chaff decides to leave the firm.  It’s the first he’s ever heard about it, and Mitch doesn't know if it’s because it’s a spontaneous decision or because he hasn’t been paying attention to Chaff’s life at all: if it’s because he’s been a bad friend.

 

“I just know I won’t get the promotions their offering me at Mayer Brown.  They’re starting me off as a higher paying partner than I’ll ever be here, man.  I’m going to take it,” the man explains as he packs him stuff out of his small office into cardboard boxes.  Although he’d been promoted too, Rothman had been adamant about it, clearly handing off the more tedious cases for him to cover

 

“I’m going to miss you,” Haymitch admits honestly, sitting in the client seat in front of the desk.  He doesn’t mention the parts where he needs his best friend, or that he doesn’t know how the office could possibly be a good place when he and Effie aren’t talking and Chaff is gone.  

 

“I’ll miss you too, man, I’ll miss everyone.  But you know corporate law isn’t where I want to be anyways.  The immigration stuff they’re doing is what I always wanted to do, it’s why I studied law in the first place!”

 

Haymitch knows that the job is perfect for Chaff, and if it were him he’d take it too.

 

“Look don’t worry about Trinket okay?” his friend says, as if he has read his mind.  “You guys are meant for each other, I’ve never been more sure about that with any other couple.  Just give her more time to think things through, she’ll see that no one’s in the wrong, things will turn out okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

But things are not okay, they become acutely worse when a stock broker visits the office, presumably because he was at one point, relevant to someone’s case, but today he seems to be sticking around for no reason at all.

 

His name is Seneca Crane, and he has the most obnoxious and unnecessary beard Haymitch has ever seen.  Yet still, he’s spotted in Effie’s office, chatting away and making her laugh.  It’s the fake one, Haymitch knows, but Effie’s good at convincing herself it’s a real laugh, that she’s really happy, sometimes.

 

Obviously he wants Effie to be happy, and if moving on is how she’ll do it so be it.  Haymitch can accept the idea that she doesn’t want to be with someone like him, someone who’s cowardly and never knows what to say.  But he also knows she’s looking for something she won’t find in Seneca Crane, a type of love or attention that makes her bubbly and  _ genuinely  _ happy.

 

Seneca begins to stop by more often, and sometimes Effie leaves the office with him, and Haymitch wonders if she thinks about him at dinner, when they would always try new restaurants and talk about capitalism or classical music.

 

Probably not though, she probably doesn’t even think twice.  Effie probably doesn’t even see that she’s picking at the pieces of his heart, piece by piece.

 

* * *

 

 

Haymitch stares at the amber liquid swirling in his cup pensively, and then downs it in one go.  It burns a little bit on his tongue and down his throat, but it still soothes him, makes his head fuzzy in the best way.

 

All the partners of the firm were invited to a corporate event.  It's the type where they all socialize and raise funds for a charitable cause, but clearly the larger goal is to make business connections and scout out potential clients.  For the lawyers at Rothman & Associates, this means getting to know as many CEO's as possible and casually name dropping the firm; they're all experts at this, especially Effie.

 

But not tonight though.  She's dressed as she usually is for these nights - her body in that emerald green cocktail dress has Haymitch salivating.  For once, he can't have her and it makes his heart hurt.  Instead of talking amongst the others, he sees her constantly leaving for the balcony and barely involving herself in conversations.

 

When she steps outside for the fifth time that night, Haymitch knows he shouldn't follow her but he does anyway.  He finds her lighting a cigarette elegantly.  Effie leans against the concrete building but doesn't even look at him when he walks out.

 

Her stare is blank and cold and Haymitch knows she's freezing because her teeth are chattering and he can see goosebumps running up and down her pale, slender arms.  He shouldn't've come out here, shouldn't've expected Effie to talk to him.  He has to try anyway though, because he doesn't know how else to get to her.

 

“I thought you quit,” Haymitch questions, nodding at her dart.

 

Her voice is flat and uninterested as she says, “Old habits die hard.”

 

"You're going to freeze out here, Eff."

 

Effie shrugs after taking another long drag, still looking out into the skyline.  "What do you care?  If I freeze, I'll freeze."

 

"Just come inside, if you stay in there for longer than 15 minutes you might notice that it's quite a bit warmer."

 

"If you care so much, why don't you just give me your coat, Mr. Abernathy?"

 

She's teasing him again, and Haymitch has to close his eyes and grit his teeth to remind himself that Effie's being cruel.  "Well, you should've asked Seneca for a coat, right?"

 

This seems to shut her up.  They stand in a semi-comfortable silence as Effie finishes her dart and ashes it against the wall, throwing the butt in the garbage.  Her face is stoic but Haymitch knows she's as hurt as he is, and equally as confused.  She opens her box of Marlboro's and takes out another, and Haymitch has to bite his tongue so that he can't reprimand her.

 

"He says he loves me, you know," Effie mentions to no one in particular, pulling her lighter out.  "Says that he can't go a single second without thinking about me."

 

"Well isn't that exactly what I could never give you?  He's perfect, sweetheart," he scowls sarcastically.

 

"Don't call me sweetheart," Effie demands, looking him in the eye for the first time.  Her blue, blue eyes are filled with so much pain and emotion that Haymitch stares into them for so long before she snaps her gaze away.  She extinguishes her second cigarette prematurely, apparently not wanting it anymore.  "Don't mock me, Haymitch.  Have you ever thought that this relationship might be good for me, healthier than you?"

 

"I really don't know Eff, but I can see that it's making you more of an addict than ever before.  What is that, your sixth cigarette of the night?  Is that what you call a healthy relationship?"

 

Suddenly, she slaps him so hard it burns.  They're closer together so that he feels her panting against him, and Haymitch's hand reaches for his own face, cupping the place she hit.

 

"You are such a fucking hypocrite, Haymitch," she spits.  "I can't stand you."

 

Tears are welling up in her eyes, and even though they're both so, so angry at each other Haymitch wishes he could kiss her tears away and just fucking hold her.  He misses her more than he ever thought possible and he can't stand the idea of Effie with anyone else.

 

He thought talking to her tonight would mend old wounds, but all they've done is rip the seams wide open again.  He keeps flashing back to the hospital: Effie's cries, her cold skin and the way he walked out of her apartment.  Haymitch is still nostalgic for an era that has long ended; they'll never be so innocently in love ever again, and the realization causes him to close his eyes shut before his own tears start to form.

 

"I'll get out of your way then," he mumbles.  He heads back into the party, leaving Effie alone in the cold, once again.

 

* * *

 

 

He tries to move forward, get on with his life, but it’s hard.  He doesn’t even remember what it’s like to date anyone else or be with anyone but Effie.  When he closes his eyes he sees her face and it hurts.  It hurts so he drinks, and soon he’s drinking so heavily his days all blur together.

 

Work doesn’t mean anything anymore.  It used to be a happy place where he got to do what he loved and be with people he loved, but now it’s just a miserable place where he can’t stand anyone.  Chaff is gone, and Effie is gone in most ways.  She’s just a shadow that he sometimes sees at the office, haunting him and his heart.

 

He doesn’t want to move on.  He wants Effie to come back and let him show her how sorry he is. 

 

But it doesn’t make a difference, what he wants and what he doesn’t want.

 

So he pours another glass.

 

* * *

 

 

She shows up at his door one night.  Or at least he thinks it’s night, because Effie is in her office attire and clearly just came from a day at the firm.  He’s been accidentally skipping work lately after long nights of drinking, and if it wasn’t for Rothman giving him special treatment he’d be fired by now.  Haymitch used to tease her about how fancy she looked in his ratty old apartment, and now more than ever she stands out.

 

“Hey sweetheart, what brings you here?” he asks mockingly, squinting his eyes at the bright hallway lights.  He’s still nursing a headache from a hangover, and Effie rolls her eyes when she realizes what state he’s in.

 

“Why weren’t you at work?”

 

“Why do you fucking care at all?”  He’s trying to hurt her, but Effie keeps a straight face.  She walks into his apartment without permission and puts her purse down on a chair.  It’s most unfortunate that he’s still a mess and Effie is perfectly put together again.  It makes him angry and frustrated, and when he sees her pale, soft, unmarked skin he feels the incoherent need to tarnish her.  He wonders if her new boyfriend satisfies her in bed, and for some reason he doubts it.

 

“Despite what you may think, I don’t want you to drink yourself to death or ruin your career.  You have to get your shit together Haymitch, people are asking questions.”

 

“People.”

 

“Yes, there are people at the office concerned about your wellbeing.”

 

“Are you one of those people?” he asks, and Effie flinches.  “Why did you actually come here, huh?  Because you wanted to ask about work?  I don’t buy it,” he accuses, and by the look of her face he knows he’s hit a nerve.  She looks down to the left and takes a couple of deep breaths, and Haymitch smirks.  “Did you come here because he’s not treating you good, Sweetheart?  Is it because you miss us?”

 

“You’re obsessed with yourself,” she sneers, but doesn’t deny anything.  So Haymitch steps towards her, pressing her against the counter.  Effie does nothing to stop him, and once again her body responds to him more than words ever could.

 

“Tell me you don’t want me, Eff.  That you don’t want me to fuck you senseless until you’re cumming harder than you ever could with your boy toy, so that you’re screaming my name,” he rasps, and Effie makes no response other than looking him right in the eye with those bright blue sapphires.  She’s silent, so he prompts again.  “Say it.”

 

Her head shakes no, and she chokes out a sob.  

 

“I can’t.”

 

So he kisses her.  They’re slow and languid movements that cause Effie’s back to arch and her arms to hook around his neck.  

 

When they kiss, it's like they never stopped.  It's as if this whole year and a half of pain and fighting and loneliness had never happened, and they're still together like the youthful and happy people they once were.  They're clawing at each other, frantically chasing naked skin and soft lips.  He carries her to his bed, tearing off her clothes and laying her down on the bed.  His lips latch onto her neck and Effie screams out loud, holding on tightly.  While Haymitch kisses down her throat and grips onto her hips, she mewls into his ear and loses control. 

  
  
Haymitch is just trying to make her feel good, trying to remind her of what they were, what they could be.  But soon his clothes come off too, and they're fumbling to get the condom on as quickly as possible.  He's already rock hard, and when he sinks into Effie's heat she cries out his name and wraps her legs around him.  

  
  
The thrusts are deep and passionate, and they both moan every time their hips meet.  When Mitch looks into her eyes, they're so bright and almost silver.  Soon they flutter shut and he knows she's concentrating on the pleasure which is building up inside of her.

  
  
"Fuck," he moans, grinding into her.  "Fuck Eff, I miss you.  I miss you so much."

  
  
Effie doesn't say anything comprehensible, only nods quickly and continues to moan through gritted teeth.  It’s so good they’re both dizzy.  When he feels his orgasm edging on and building up, Haymitch brings his hand down to her clit and gives it a small rub.  In seconds she’s writhing, shouting his name and tensing her muscles.  He collapses on her and cups her face, sweaty from their previous activities.

 

“I love fucking you,” he whispers into her ear.

 

Effie lets out a short laugh and looks away from him.  “You’re no good for me.”

 

Haymitch peels a piece of hair away from her face and then moves to the side of his bed, leaning on his side so that he’s facing her.  “And yet you came back.”

 

Effie looks sad at that comment, like she can’t believe she came back either.  “It’s because I’m addicted to you Haymitch.  The same way I’m addicted to smoking and you can’t stop drinking.  It’s the same fucking thing, neither one of us know how to stop.  You’re going to ruin me, Mitch.”

 

“Same with you, Princess, but I don’t mind,” he whispers, suddenly feeling defensive.  He doesn’t know why she’s doing this to him, why she comes over and gives herself to him, only to slap him in the face and tell him all of these things.  After a couple of blank moments of loaded looks and deep breathing, Effie begins to get dressed saying she has to go.

 

“So soon?” he asks, hoping that she dwells for just a while longer.

 

Her face is scared, it’s horrified, really.  “This was a mistake.  I shouldn’t’ve come here.  I’m still with Seneca, he loves me and-”

 

“And nothing,” Haymitch growls.  “You came here tonight, I know you want this too.  I know how to take care of you, how to make you smile.  What does he give you that I don’t have?”

 

“He’s asking me to marry him,” she spits out as quickly as possible, retreating towards the door.  “I’m going to say yes.”

 

He’s confused.  Shocked, maybe, but mostly confused.  She came over to his apartment so that she could toy with his feelings, and even though they both know that no one else makes them feel like this, she’s going to marry another man, simply because he can say the words.

 

“What, Sweetheart?  So you came here after work, hoping to get in one final fuck before you tie the knot with  _ Seneca _ ?”

 

“No,” she insists.  “No, I didn’t plan for this to happen.  I’m trying so hard not to hurt you, Haymitch, but if you don’t believe me I can’t keep trying to justify my actions.”

 

He doesn’t need her to justify all her actions.  Everyone acts irrationally, or out of fear and anxiety.  Haymitch just needs her to come back, he needs her to come back to him and fix his fucked up life before he drinks himself to death.  But he doesn’t say any of that; Effie’s already made up her mind.

 

* * *

 

 

It doesn’t get better.  When he sees engagement party invitations going around, he almost pukes.  Everyone in the office is excited and talking her up about it, and Haymitch just wants to run and ride and fucking kill himself.

 

Sometimes Seneca shows up and eats lunch with her.  On those days Haymitch closes the blinds for the glass walls of his office and throws himself into work.  But it’s hard to concentrate on work when his head is throbbing from a night of drinking and self-hatred.  He’s up to almost half a bottle a night now, and he knows he can’t physically or economically afford this anymore.

 

But nothing else helps.  Nothing else makes him forget like a glass of whiskey does.  He will never stop missing the nights when they would just lay in bed and look at each other and just fucking know that nothing would ever make them feel the same way.  He wonders if she misses it too, if she ever wants that too.

 

Obviously, the person Effie once loved is gone.  Haymitch is nothing more but a ghost of the naive and selfless man he once was.  Now he just drinks the nights away and waits for the world the to stop spinning.

 

* * *

 

 

“Haymitch Abernathy, how dare we finally see each other after so many months,” he hears from down the bar, and he looks up.  Chaff is sitting there, scotch in hand, looking back at his friend with a welcoming gaze.

 

He’s let his facial hair grow in and he look a little bit more tired, but other than that his best friend remains unchanged.  “Hey, good to see you,” he mumbles, giving his buddy a pat on the back.

 

“That’s all I get?” the man jokes, moving to the bar chair next to him.  “How is Rothman’s?  How is everything, is Effie doing okay?”

 

“Effie is engaged to another man,” he states, laughing cruelly at himself.  It’s the first time he’s said it out loud to himself, and when he does it seems ridiculous to him as well.  Chaff’s eyes widen and his expression goes weary, clearly concerned for Haymitch’s wellbeing.   But he doesn’t say anything.  Instead, they drink in silence for a few moments, just enjoying the company.  It’s not a lot, but it’s enough.  It’s the most amicable human contact Haymitch has had in months.

 

“You know,” Chaff starts, and Haymitch looks up from his ambers liquid.  “Of all the fucked up people and things we have to deal with in our lives, I always thought you and Trinket would be the ones to make it through.”

 

“Sorry to disappoint,” he says grimly.

 

“But I still do, that’s the thing.  I still feel like the two of you are meant to figure things out and end up together.  Call me a sap, man, but ‘Eff & Mitch’ are all I know.”

 

“She doesn’t want that, she doesn’t think about that anymore.”

 

“That’s a fucking lie if I’ve ever heard one, Abernathy.  You said she’s engaged?  Well of course she’s not going to come up to you and profess her love for you again!  You need to go tell her man, you need to tell her that if she backs out of her marriage you’ll be there waiting for her!”

 

Haymitch supposes it makes sense.  Why would Effie come running back to him when it puts her whole fake future with Seneca at risk?  She still has a reputation and people to impress.  But Chaff’s words of instruction seem too easy, too naive to ever work.  It always ends in disappointment or anger or sadness.

 

“Why are you telling me this, Chaff?”

 

“Because I know you, and I know Trinket.  I know that neither one of you want to be in the wrong.  Most of the time you have to make compromises, but sometimes it’s more important to fight for what you love.”

 

And Haymitch realizes for the past years he’s done neither.  So he slams a twenty onto the bar and rushes out the door.

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn’t know what he’s doing.  He doesn’t know if she even lives here anymore, but when Effie opens the door in a silk robe with no makeup on and sleepy eyes, he’s flooded with relief just to see her again.

 

“Call it off,” is the first thing Haymitch says as soon as the door is open.

 

“What?  Haymitch, you’re drunk, you aren’t-”

 

“Call off the wedding, Sweetheart, please.  I don’t know what I’ll do if you marry him.”

 

Effie’s eyes are already filled with tears and she looks back at him with so much pain, so many things left unsaid.  “You’ll move on, Mitch, you have to.”

 

“Neither of us want that.  You just think he’s a better option because he’s safe, because he’s not fucked in the head like me.”

 

“He’s a stable man…”

 

“I’ll sober up.  I swear,” he promises out of the blue, even surprising himself.  When he says the words, he realizes that it’s exactly what he needs to do.  “I’ll go cold turkey, Eff, I’ll fix all of this and focus on work, and then we can be together again.”

 

He’s so out of line.  Effie will be married in weeks, and it’s totally wrong for him to be showing up at her door so late at night, buzzed, proclaiming his love for her.  The time for fixing their relationship has long expired, but he can still hope that his words come across as sincere.  That she’ll see how much he’s breaking without her and maybe she needs him a little bit too.

 

“It’s not that easy.  We had bigger problems than your drinking, Mitch.  We didn’t work, we disagreed on so many things.”

 

“If you’re talking about our baby, Eff, I was a fucking asshole, the way I reacted after the hospital.  I don’t ever want you to feel that alone ever again, sweetheart.  Please, think this through.”

 

Effie lets a tear fall.  “I can’t have this conversation with you right now, Haymitch.  It’s almost one, we have work tomorrow.  I’m literally getting married in two months time!  There is not a single worse time for you to come here and say these things to me, not one!”

 

“But time is irrelevant.  Don’t make a mistake you’ll regret for ever just because my timing is bad, princess.”

 

She begins to close the door, leaving him in the hall alone.  “Please just go Haymitch, I can’t, you know I can’t.”

 

“I love you and I’ll sober up for you.  Just don’t forget I said it,” he reminds as a final word before Effie slams the door shut violently.   

 

It’s too much to expect from her, he knows.  He can’t expect her to take his words seriously in the middle of the night after he’s just left the bar.  She’s getting married in no time, and for her to throw it all aside would be fucking crazy.  He’s just glad he got to say it, that Effie got to hear him say the words.

 

* * *

 

 

But the craziest thing happens.

 

Effie cancels the engagement.

 

Haymitch hears about it from Peter Undersee, that after the engagement party wedding invites never followed.

 

And then Seneca stops visiting during lunches, which could mean nothing but could also mean everything.

 

When he can’t find the obnoxious ring on her finger, he knows for sure.  She’s not getting married to anyone anymore.  

 

She doesn’t run back into his arms; he doesn’t expect her to whatsoever.  He doesn’t push any boundaries or try to talk to her anymore than before.  Mostly, he’s happy that Effie made the right choice, that she didn’t commit herself to a loveless marriage that she didn’t care about.

 

But a promise is a promise.  Haymitch throws away the last of his bottles and stops his nightly trips to the bar.  He hopes it shows her that he’s serious, that she didn’t end it all for nothing.  That’s all either of them can do really, just hope.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a couple days later when he calls her late at night.  He’s in his bathroom, hunched over the toilet, puking his guts out.  A cold sweat is broken out all across his body, and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking when he tried to dial her number.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Sweetheart, do you think you could do me a favour?”

 

He hears a hitch in her breath and hopes she doesn’t hang up.  “What do you need?”

 

“Medication, I think.  I’m really nauseous, shaking, don’t think my mind is straight right now.  I don’t know what time it is.”

 

Effie mumbles a curse under her breath.  “How long since your last drink?”

 

“Two days?” he estimates, racking his head for the last time he tastes the burn of whiskey on his tongue.  His brain is so lucid and dizzy, he honestly doesn’t remember.  “A while, please help me.”

 

“I’m putting on my coat now, I’ll be there in ten,” she says with urgency in her voice, hanging up the phone as quickly as possible.

 

True to her word, she’s there in minutes, and she opens the door with the key she’s always had.  He’s still in the bathroom, almost passed out at this point.  He thinks he’s dreaming, that he’s dreaming of Effie coming over to save him, but she hoists him up by the armpits and puts a hand against his forehead.

 

“You have a fever, Haymitch.  Come, get up, let’s get you on the bed with some water, okay?”

 

She urges him to stand up and Haymitch just clings to her.  Effie smells the same, she’s still in her coat and her face is expressionless as she drags him out of the powder room and into his living space.  They don’t make it to the bed.  He falls onto the couch, and Effie props pillows up so he doesn’t fall over.

 

A glass of water is brought over from the kitchen, and even though he doesn’t feel like drinking it she compels him to, running her fingers through his hair trying to comfort him.  He has no idea where Effie finds a face towel, but she puts one over his forehead, trying to calm his fever.  It hurts everywhere, and there seems to be a knot in his stomach that just won’t stop pressing against his lungs.

 

Haymitch is shaking, convulsing practically, and he feels like he might die any second.  “I don’t think I can do this, sweetheart…”

 

“You can,” she whispers back.  Effie lets him lean on her torso, head buried in her chest trying to suppress tears from the pain.  “You must and you will, Haymitch.  I have so much faith in you.”

 

“Why?” he manages to ask through the tremors.  He still can’t believe she’s really here, that he’s really holding onto her body.

 

“Because you’re the strongest man I know,” she responds, whispering into his lonely apartment.  “Because if you don’t make it, there’s no way I’ll make it without you, okay?”

 

* * *

 

 

Effie helps him all the way through his withdrawals, rubbing his head and whispering words into his ears.  It take weeks to make him feel human again, he’s taken a temporary vacation leave from the firm, and Effie comes by to see him everyday for months.  They never touch romantically, only to comfort each other or ground one another.  But it works, it’s better than any medication she could’ve brought him, so Haymitch never asks for more or asks why she keeps coming back.

 

She brings him takeout, though he’s rarely hungry, and she stares at him intently as he picks at the food she so generously brought him and tries to put it in his mouth.  He just can’t bring himself to eat it, just the thought of it makes him sick.

 

“I can’t do it Eff, I’m so fucking sorry,” he shudders, and when he looks up he sees tears welling up in her eyes too.

 

“Don’t worry, Mitch, you don’t have to eat it.  I’ll put it in the fridge.”

 

“But you didn’t have to buy it in the first place, princess,” he insists, raising his voice.  “I’m such a fucking mess, please, you don’t need to stay.”

 

Effie walks over to him on the couch, grabbing his hands in hers and looking him in the eye.  It’s the first physical contact that’s felt like anything more, anything like a promise.  Her piercing blue eyes are glassy and dark, but she doesn’t flinch.  “Yes, I do need to stay, Haymitch.  I’ll stay until you don’t need me anymore.  I have to.”

 

“But I’m never going to stop needing you.”

 

“Then so be it, I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she laughs dimly, letting a tear fall off of her cheek.  Haymitch catches it with his thumb and brushes her cheek.

 

Effie stays true to her word, always coming over and even signing him up for rehab.

 

And rehab is the fucking worst.  She walks him to his neighbourhood community centre where the furniture feels cheap and the air is stale.  They walk at a comfortable distance, both with their hands shoved in their pockets.  It’s spring, but outside it’s still chilly and spitting a bit of rain.

 

“Are you going to be okay?” she asks when they arrive at the centre, brows furrowed and biting her lip.  It’s almost as if she’s a worried mom dropping her kid off at school.  

 

Haymitch scoffs.  “Yeah, I’ll be okay sweetheart, I’ll be okay.”

 

Effie looks distraught, like she’s decided whether she should walk away now or touch him.  So he pulls her into his arms, and she instantaneously melts into him, pressing her face to his chest and wrapping herself around him tight.  They hug for what feels like forever when he notices that she’s holding her breath, so he nudges her away and tells her he needs to go in.  She smiles weakly, standing outside until he disappears through the doors.

 

In the room where the support group is being held, a group of a dozen people sit on metal chairs in a circle, sharing stories.  He’s late, but the group leader kindly welcomes him in and unfolds another chair for him.  Today they’re sharing personal stories, talking about why they need to overcome their vices.

 

“I, um,” a woman begins to speak.  She has dark hair and more lines on her face than she should for her age.  “My name is Hazelle Hawthorne, I’m three months sober.  My husband passed away two years ago.  I didn’t know how to deal with it, or if I wanted to.  So the nightly glass of white wine became three, or more, and it just got to such a breaking point, I threw my glass.  And.. and it almost hit my nine year old son.  I have to start being a good mom to my kids or else they might be taken away from me.  My poor eldest is practically their father when he’s only a boy, it’s just unfair to him.  It’s unfair to everyone, alcoholism isn’t about you.  It’s about literally everyone else but you.  People don’t realize that sometimes.  So I have to get better.  I need to stop drinking and get my life together.  For the people I love.”

 

And it really only takes Hazelle Hawthorne’s words for him to know.  He knows that he needs to get better, for Effie, for his future and everyone around him that he might hurt.  It’s not a question, but he stays until the end, choosing not to speak himself.

 

* * *

 

 

The day Haymitch returns to the office is probably one of the best days of his sorry life.  Effie meets him at Sae’s in the morning to get coffee with him, holding onto his arm and leaning against him.  Today she looks refreshed or younger in some way.   She looks more like the naive paralegal he met on that first day, and less like a woman who had to put up with a drunk coward for ten years.  But Effie doesn’t see that.  She sees bravery and intelligence and everything she made him see in himself too, and that’s the man who’s returning to Abernathy & Associates, not the old Mitch.

 

When the elevator arrives at their floor and they step out, everyone greets them casually, but doesn’t congratulate him or anything unnecessary.  That’s the way he wants it to be, as if nothing’s changed around him.

 

Effie has been keeping his office clean and dusted, it’s neater than the way he left it before, which makes him smile.

 

“You did this?”

 

She shrugs, “Sure, I couldn’t keep it cluttered forever, that’s just not me.”  He’s leaning against his desk looking out onto the city, and Effie leans in on him so that his hands snake around her waist.

 

They still haven’t kissed yet.  They haven’t even talked about making love or sharing that right now.  The truth is that they’re both still healing, and neither of them are emotionally ready for any of that.  It’s like they’re relearning how to love each other, and he supposes it did take almost four years the first time.

 

Rothman & Associates is where they should be, where it feels like home.  Haymitch wants them to own this firm and cultivate the talent here, like the family they never made or the home they could never cook for.  Effie’s hair smells so good under his nose, it reminds him of nights spent curled up beside her and conversations he’ll never forget.

 

“I’m sorry this took so long,” he whispers, and Effie spins around to look at him, really look at him, shaking her head and smiling.

 

“Don’t be sorry about that Mitch.  We’re together now.  That’s all I really ever wanted anyways.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked reading it even a fraction of the amount I enjoyed writing it! I realize that my Eff and Mitch and suuuper OOC in terms of the books and movies, but tell me what you think?
> 
> Also should I continue writing Hayffie? I read more Hayffie and write more Gadge (but I still read a lot of Gadge, just a shitload of Hayffie haha) so I'm trying to figure out the disparity, if that makes sense.
> 
> Please show some love or drop a comment, it always motivates me to write more. :)


End file.
